Responsibility
by Gemma-xo
Summary: As his last, best lieutenant, Bellatrix Lestrange is nothing but focused on the mission the Dark Lord has assigned her. But will an unforeseen change turn Bellatrix's world upside down?
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is my _first ever_ fanfic, and I'm not entirely sure if I'm happy with it. Thank you for taking the time to read it! All reviews are appreciated and I'll gladly take all criticism on board.

There is more to come. I'm know where I'm heading with this, just not entirely sure of the events that lead the way.

I guess this is kinda AU/head canon. Bellatrix/Rodolphus with a touch of Voldemort.

Obviously I neither own nor am I affiliated with the Harry Potter series or JK Rowling.

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><p><strong>Responsibility.<strong>

"Shit" she cursed under her breath. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" The curses were flowing freely from her mouth now as she paced back and forth. There was a mistake. She had been confused perhaps? Feeling dizzy, she perched on the end of the seat, head in hands. "Now, now. Just calm down. Breathe." But it was no use; her attempts to calm herself down were futile. With each passing second she could feel the anxiety rising from the pit of her stomach, working its way upward. Choking her. Suffocating her. Scrambling back to her feet, Bellatrix resumed pacing the length of the room, counting frantically in her head. Was it possible? Was her math correct? Surely not. It had been weeks, months! She had barely even looked at her husband as of late, being so consumed in her latest project, and approved, of course, by her master. Her most powerful master, what would he have to say about this? No, she had miscalculated somewhere along the lines. But Bellatrix knew her body, and something certainly wasn't right. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror, Bellatrix stood a little straighter. This had been the first time in weeks that she had caught sight of her reflection, being too wholly committed to her mission to deviate in thought. Staring back at her from the mirror was the gaunt face of someone seemingly exhausted. Their dark grey eyes, sunken with deep, dark circles resonating beneath them. Their skin pale and dry, stretched tightly over high cheek bones and a strong jawline. Hair that was a curly mane of jet black and looked as though it was once, in better days, luscious and shining. This was not the face of a future mother.  
>Pulling herself together, gathering what little logic she could muster she decided there was only one thing for it: a trip to the muggle pharmacy. Their anatomy was the same, so in theory their medical practices, although inferior to the magic of healers, would be accurate. Besides, she thought, the fewer magical people who knew of this, the better.<p>

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><p>Trudging through the dark, damp alleyways of London, his limbs heavy and his body spattered with blood, Rodolphus Lestrange found himself wondering aimlessly, allowing his feet to take him anywhere; anywhere but home. This is not to say that he does not like the large stately manor that he deems his home. In fact, had someone suggested such in earlier months, Rodolphus would have laughed at the accusation of the Lestrange household bearing no happiness for him. It was, doubtlessly, the stage upon which many of his fondest memories were originally set. However, the general air to the Lestrange manor in the passing month or so has been practically the opposite of what he is used to, with the tension doubling, tripling even, the second he walks through the main gates.<p>

Though he loved his wife with the upmost sincerity, Rodolphus couldn't help but feel that there was, and perhaps always had been, a third person to his marriage. Another creature with which he was to share his wife's attention and affection. Bellatrix was without doubt an indispensible force to the dark Lord Voldemort, a role she took readily and with an eagerness quite unmatched anywhere else. This woman, a most loyal and dedicated servant to a higher power despite the nobility and status of her blood, was both his betrothed and his love. For this precise reason he chose not to interfere with Bella's intentions when she was on a mission. To not so much as suggest that she could give him hints as to what she was doing. Instead, quiet support was to be his role in all of this, of course with a dash of servitude to the Dark Lord added for good measure. All of this had become the norm, as such, over the many years of their marriage. Yet, disturbingly, as of late something was different. Rodolphus speculated to himself that it was maybe just the restless nights that Bellatrix had suffered next to him, tossing and turning for hours on end. Or maybe the dark lord had given his Bella a particularly tricky task to complete and being so proud and dedicated she was struggling but determined to tell no one, feigning a sense of effortlessness. Excuses aside, there were no hiding the fact that Bellatrix had transformed as of late. She was no longer his Bella, the image that sprang to mind upon mention of her name. She had become cold, unpredictable and above all emotional, her feelings changing as often as the wind blew with anger and a despairing sadness recurring the most within the mixture, relentlessly gripping her by the soul. She was losing control of herself and all Rodolphus could do was attempt to hide his wife's downfall from the Dark Lord.


	2. Chapter 2

As he walked through the stained glass door, there was an eerie silence over the Lestrange household. Slipping off his travelling cloak and handing it to the nearest house elf, he didn't care for the triviality of knowing which one, Rodolphus stalked noiselessly across the lobby of the manor, heading for the stairs. He couldn't help but pander to his rising curiosity as he climbed the grand staircase; was he alone in the house or was his darling wife in but busying herself in a distant room? After a second or two of speculation, Rodolphus forced this thought to the back of his mind. It had been a long day and his limbs felt like cast iron extensions of his tiredness, weighing down his every gesture and movement. What he needed right now was a hot bath, both cleansing and relaxing, preparing him for what he may yet face before the night is through.

With a soft flick of his wand, the elegant monochrome bath tub began to fill itself. Peeling his blood stained robes from his taught skin, Rodolphus created a small mound of clothes to his right, ready for the house elves to take care of. He stepped into the water slowly, cautiously. The water was, as he suspected, just the right temperature; not too hot, not just warm. He lay back carefully, letting the water lap at his upper chest and collarbone. Though he would never admit it to another living soul this was, Rodolphus thought, one of life's unchallenged pleasures. Feeling each of his muscles release as the hot water cleans away the stress and the grime of the daily grind and the steam clears his head. It was while bathing, he decided, that the best of his ideas had occurred. Not tonight, however. Tonight was not the night for procrastinating or philosophising, but a night for forgetting, for stopping every thought dead in its tracks, allowing his body to become one with the red tainted water. Allowing his head loll back, Rodolphus cast his mind to happier times, to when he was a young man and life seemed a lot simpler.

_He was a Hogwarts student in his fourth year again, sitting in an armchair facing the blazing fireplace. Bellatrix was in the chair next to his, an open text book balancing in her lap, and a pad of paper on the arm of the chair. Every few minutes or so she would scowl at the page, frantically scribble down a few notes and once again consult the textbook only to cross out the notes just written with a low growl escaping her clenched jaw. As intelligent as Bellatrix undoubtedly was, arithmency was never her strong point. Glancing over her shoulder Rodolphus could see where Bellatrix had gone wrong, a common mistake really. After watching her suffer this torment for just a few moments longer he decided to act. "You missed a step" he said hoarsely, praying that Bellatrix would attribute the inflection of his voice to his quietness that night, and not to the nerves that had formed a tight knot and resided in the pit of his stomach. She said nothing in reply but merely looked up at him, her icy stare penetrating him deep down into his soul, accusing but also somewhat inquisitive. "I-if you go back a page or two it's all there. You missed the fourth step in the equation." He added, feeling the weight of his interruption bearing down upon his shoulders, urging him to explain himself fully. She dropped her eyes back to her book, scrutinised her notes in comparison, and began making new ones. Rodolphus sat back contentedly, watching steadily, though whether it was out of interest or habit he was no longer sure. "You know. Where I'm going to end up I won't even need to know this." Bellatrix half growled, stumbling almost inaudibly on the word this. Still bent over her studies, her hair had fallen around her shoulders providing a curtain that was preventing Rodolphus from seeing her face from this angle. Right now he really couldn't be sure if that last remark was a sneer at him, somehow demeaning his knowledge or at where she was headed, whatever that may be. Just as he began to let his mind explore this Bellatrix looked him square in the eye. She had such beautiful eyes; Rodolphus couldn't really help but feel as though he were drowning in admiration for them. They were a stunning shade of grey that were sparkling like the night sky with nothing less than pure passion and pride. It was only at that point Rodolphus realised he was staring at her. In a hurried and desperate attempt to seem nonchalant, he cleared his throat, gave a low grunt and affixed his gaze on the fire directly in front of him._

Awaking suddenly to the cold convulsions of his body, Rodolphus realised he had fallen asleep in the bath. Now resembling a shrivelled prune he exited the bath with as much dignity as he could muster. Wrapping the freshly pressed towel around his waist he made his way across the house to the master bedroom when, as he reached the doorway, he heard the soft 'click' of the front door closing. His wife had returned. Rodolphus' heart picked up tempo as he realised she wasn't with him in the house all this time and his mind began to wonder at the activities his wife had embarked upon this evening while he was stewing in the bath that had made her stay out so late.

It was beginning to get late as Bellatrix apparated at the foot of the hill which lead to her home. She had materialised a little closer to the gate than originally planned, and wondered for a moment if she had been heard, however from her position she could see no silhouette in any of the lit rooms of the house. This put her at ease a little. Dressed in a jet black travelling robe that billowed in the wind, Bellatrix swept up the driveway and slid through the front door. This was the moment of truth, she had to carefully and silently close the large, heavy wooden door if she was to enter her home unnoticed. The antique door closed with a soft click of the mechanism catching and Bellatrix made her way across the foyer to put away her cloak, walking on the balls of her feet in an almost childlike manner, so as the heels of her boots did not make noise on the tiled floor. It was only by chance that she caught sight of the grand clock and realised the lateness of the hour. Questions were sure to follow if anyone was to know of her being awake and out of bed at this hour, least of all just arriving home.

She made a snap decision to remove her shoes and store them with her cloak, after all there was a degree of effort in taking them off and usually an audible tug of war between Bellatrix's limbs and the boots themselves. Padding barefoot through the mansion, Bellatrix began to derobe as she walked, sure to be the only one awake other than the house elves, but she cared little for their thoughts, opinions and what they may or may not have seen. At present her focus was to get into the marital bed as quietly and gently as humanly possible.

As she entered the master bedroom, Bellatrix removed what was left of the robe and left it at the door. This action was met by a masculine grunt which made her heart skip as she froze on the spot. 'Busted' she thought to herself, a note of bitterness staining her thought. However as the heavy breathing continued some way behind her, she braved herself for a risky look round. A small distance away in the hazy darkness of the room was a lumpy figure from which the heavy breathing was coming from. Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of her husband, Bellatrix crept over to the bed, expertly peeling the quilt back ever so slowly and sliding in, one limb at a time, fitting herself around her husband's mass. As her muscles began to uncoil upon her evident success, a large weight came from nowhere and found its way across her waist and abdomen, interrupting her thoughts. Only when looking down did she realise it was Rodolphus' arm, pulling her in closer, her back against his bare chest. It was in the state somewhere between sleep and consciousness that Bellatrix's mind had begun to reminisce. Many a month had passed since she had felt this close to her husband, to have his heart beating steadily against her skin, and she wondered what effect the bombshell of her news would have upon their marriage, if any. As this thought resonated throughout Bellatrix's body, Rodolphus sighed in his sleep and muttered the words "My…Bella". A phrase that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart pound so hard against her rib cage she was sure it would soon wake him up. She had to tell him, but things had been so different recently. While wondering if the man who lay next to her was truly still the man she married all those years ago, Bellatrix had slipped into a heavy sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

She came to on the cold hard floor. At least, she assumed it was the floor, why else would it be so uncomfortable? She could be anywhere, geographically she could be in Saudi Arabia for all the difference it would make right now! Not daring to open her eyes, clinging desperately to the slightly groggy feeling that follows shortly after waking up Bellatrix completed a little mental inventory. Aware of a burning ache in her spine, she listed: legs? Check. Spine? On fire. Arms? Faintly there. She began mentally exploring her own body, nerve by nerve, creeping from her toes analysing all the way up to her head. There was a dull throb to her left thigh, perhaps a bruise that would take a few days to develop. The bone of her right hip was hurting, the burning pain of a graze? Only when she attempted to move her head did the pounding begin. Wherever it was she had ended up, she didn't remember her journey leading her here.

As she made attempts to get up her ears were filled with one word, echoing off the walls, reverberating off the floor and rattling around in her sore head. One high pitched but perfectly calm 'crucio'. All at once any stream of logical thought was halted. Her breath caught in her throat and white noise filled her ears. Her blood had turned to fire, white hot pain coursing through her veins while she was being crushed under an immeasurable weight. It felt as though she was being stabbed all over and repeatedly, again and again. Bellatrix's eyes rolled into the back of her head as she was left writhing around on the floor, her back arching so high she thought it might snap.

Her body slammed back onto the cold floor with a thud and she was left panting for breath. Bellatrix was still reeling from the last dose of pain when her master's face loomed into her vision. 'It would seem you have disobeyed me, Bellatrix' Voldemort crooned in a deceptively soft tone. 'You know what happens to those of my followers who do not obey my every command' he sneered. Bellatrix tried to explain herself to the dark lord and offer a defence but it was no use, as all that she could utter was a breathless and stuttered 'n-n-n-n-o, no. W-w-w-ait' which was, by this time, too late as the familiar tidal wave of pain engulfed her body once again. Her master cared little for any excuses, a fact she should know well after her four years of devoted servitude. The pain ebbed away a little and a logical thought process returned. Bellatrix's attention turned from the ways she had failed her master to survival and escape. She was silently taking in the room, looking for a clue as to where she was when she felt her master's foot pressing down on her throat. "Resistance would prove futile, young Bellatrix," he hissed "for you have wronged me, and now you shall pay." Bellatrix was choking out her pleas for forgiveness when she became aware of the body bind curse preventing her from tearing away the obstruction to her breathing. Her eyesight had gone fuzzy, though whether that was a direct result of lack of oxygen or the trauma to her head she wasn't sure. Accepting her fate as the last of the oxygen in her body drained away, Bella's mind turned to her husband. She pictured him upon hearing the news that she had died, that she had failed her duty as a death eater. His face crumpled in confusion at how it could have happened. She pictured him returning to their marital home, so empty and alone. She imagined being without Rodolphus and in that moment was inspired to fight for her life, for her husband's sake if not her own. She inhaled the deepest breath she could muster through her restricted airways and, remembering her master's skill at ligillimency, thought intensely about how she had failed him, allowing the emotions of defeat to swell in her chest, turning her mind to how deeply and sincerely sorry she was.

The weight is lifted from her throat, though she still struggles to breathe. Bellatrix feels the thick pain to her side and the sensation of moving when she realises that she has been kicked across the room. Reopening her eyes, she is thankful for the ability to breathe as she lay on the cold, hard floor, eyes pinned to the ceiling, daring not to look anywhere else. "I sense that you are remorseful for your actions here this evening?" Voldemort muses in her general direction. "I feel that you possess an eagerness to prove yourself to me in light of your defeat. To prove," he paused, before spitting out the words "your loyalty." The words stung like a fresh wound to her already damaged and fragile self. Did her master really doubt her loyalty? Of all his death eaters, surely Bellatrix was the most loyal of them all? "I am done with you now. Carrow! Remove her from my sight. There are other things that require my attention!" Still reeling from what Voldemort had said to her, Bellatrix barely noticed that Amycus Carrow had entered the room and approached her. "Thank you, th-th-th-thank you, my lord" she choked out as she was carried from the dark room, her head spinning. There was a great gust of wind, a lot of pressure around her head and a fair amount of friction against her grazes and bruises as Carrow apparated to the manor and carried her to the door. With a light thud, Bellatrix landed on the front step, as Carrow rang the doorbell and apparated back leaving Bellatrix, a shaking, bleeding, and somewhat concussed, in a heap on her own.

Rodolphus answered the door a little confused after hearing the crack of someone disapparating and then using the doorbell. Opening the door to see the damaged shell of the woman he loved at his feet left him momentarily dumbstruck. He fell to his knees in front of her as she looked up to his face, the woman who was so strong, so impeccably and undeniably beautiful crumpled before him covered in blood, bruises forming along each visible patch of skin, her robes in tatters. She was shaking. Not knowing what else to do, Rodolphus reached for his wife, being as careful and cautious as he could he placed one arm beneath her thighs and one around her waist when she hissed loudly, recoiling from his touch. "Sssh, Bella" he whispered, as he reached to move hair from her face. "Oh, Bella. My poor, poor Bella. What happened? Who did this to you?" he continued to whisper, as though distracting her from the second attempt at finding a way to manoeuvre her into their home as painlessly as possible. Placing her down on the sofa, Rodolphus called for the house elf, Petri to fetch the essence of Dittany, some warm water, and a new set of robes for his mistress. He then set to work, peeling the remains of her shredded robes from her tender skin, carefully bathing her wounds and applying the essence of Dittany all the while humming a gentle tune in an attempt to soothe her. Now that her body had been treated and had stopped bleeding, and she was into a freshly laundered robe, Bellatrix had stopped shaking. Instead she had sat facing the fire, her eyes vacant. Rodolphus placed himself next to her, cleaning the blood from her face and examining the bruise forming on her cheekbone. "Bellatrix, my darling?" he said, testing the waters, watching her face for any reaction. "Bella, please talk to me. Anything. Anything at all, just speak. Please!" he pleaded, taking her hand in both of his. Bellatrix turned to face him, with tears brimming on her lower eyelashes. "Are you okay? Do you still hurt?" he responded, trying her for speech. She nodded her head slowly in response. "Where? Where do you hurt, my love? Let me help you" yet more pleading with his wife. She remained lifelessly still for a few moments, though whether she was deciding what caused her the most pain or whether she had yet to register what he said Rodolphus couldn't tell. "Every…where" she croaked out in a broken and hoarse voice, looking him in the eye as she did so. Collapsing onto him, she began to cry into his chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "It's okay, my love. It's okay. You're safe now. I'm here, shh, you're safe now." He crooned into the top of her head as his fingers traced her spine. He decided at that moment, after seeing an uncharacteristic vulnerability to Bellatrix that he wouldn't push her for information on what happened tonight. He would be patient and supportive to her, but he would wait for her to tell him in her own time, when she is ready.


End file.
